


The Woosley Incident

by emeraldgreaves



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldgreaves/pseuds/emeraldgreaves
Summary: In which the Inquisitor and her three companions encounter a brightly colored ram.
Kudos: 4





	The Woosley Incident

**Author's Note:**

> An ancient fic I wrote for English class in high school.

It’s a simple enough task to find the ram - brightly colored, very distinctive, answers to Lord Woolsey, she’d know it when she saw it - and tell it to come home again, but she doesn’t expect it to actually listen. Yet as soon as she tells it that Jimmy was very worried, and would it please head back to Redcliffe right now, it gives her a knowing stare with its slitted ram eyes and begins trotting in a vaguely northward direction. Quite peculiar for a farm animal. She turned her back on it, considering her work done.

  
Marienne begins walking towards the cliff, not looking forward to the challenging climb ahead of her, when an explosion sends her staggering. The sound rings in her ears, deafening her to everything but sheer panic, and a wave of heat sears the back of her neck as she stumbles, caught off-guard. Cassandra’s surprised shout is a muffled echo at the edge of her hearing, Bull’s battle cry resonating weakly through the fog numbing her mind. She trips over a rock and splashes into the river, staff slipping from fumbling fingers and clattering uselessly to the ground. _Dammit_. She needs a barrier. The spell at her fingertips fizzles and dies as she lands in the water, scrambling madly to get away from the thing towering over her.

  
The demon is faceless, a twisted, blackened, vaguely humanoid thing that seems to ooze lava before her eyes. A volcano with a torso. Magma drips down its form as it lurches towards her, smoke rising from the scorched trail of grass in its wake. Her thoughts are slow, like a wagon stuck in quicksand. _Fenedhis_. Where was her dagger? She ducks as a flailing claw scythes past her ear, terror tugging at her to flee. She can’t move.

  
A crossbow bolt whistles through the air over her head before burying itself in the monster’s throat with a solid thunk. Bianca? Thank you, Varric, for saving her life once again. The demon falls with a shriek and collapses. Hot blood rains over her, the droplets leaving spots of searing pain where they land on her skin. Stupid demon, taking her by surprise like that. No natural thing should be on fire. She scrubs at her stinging face with one sodden, gloved hand, watching as the demon’s remains collapse inwards on itself, bubbling and melting like a hot spring she saw once, years ago. She’s never seen anything like that creature before, though, and it can’t be the only one. Are there more demons disguised as multicolored livestock? Will they have to find them all now?

  
“Inquisitor!” Cassandra’s harsh Nevarran accent cuts through her reverie as the warrior clumsily splashes towards her. “Are you all right?” The older woman unceremoniously pulls her upright despite her protests that she’s fine, glancing over her for any injuries - “ _Honestly, Cassandra, I’m not a child_ ” - ignoring her before briskly pulling a tonic out of her belt and thrusting it at her. Marienne grudgingly takes the proffered flask under the seeker’s watchful eye and downs it in one gulp -ugh, bitter as always. She’ll have to find mint for the apothecary to put into it, see if that doesn’t improve the taste.

  
Cassandra grimaces at the remains, now little more than a pile of molten rock, before turning in the direction of the cliffs, calling something to Bull. The tall, horned man waves an affirmative before he braces one large boot against the tree and yanks his greataxe free. Marienne is torn between calling Cassandra back and following her - she wants to investigate further, but they still have a job to do. She’s going to have so many questions for Solas later. Still, she’s a little impatient to see the dwarven ruins waiting beyond the door, behind the waterfall whose mist gently coats her face and thunders in her ears; the Deep Roads hold a mystique all their own, even with the threat of darkspawn lurking in their murky depths. She stoops to pick up her staff and casts one final glance at the remains before turning to follow Cassandra. The mystery of the demonic shapeshifting ram will have to wait.


End file.
